The Ghost Pirates

By William Hope Hodgson

The Mortzestus is reputed to be haunted but the crew dismisses the rumors as preposterous — at first. Two weeks out of port the rigging suddenly goes slack, a ghostly form arises from the sea, and shadows thicken around the vessel. The frightened sailors, convinced that supernatural powers are afoot, plot mutiny and demand to be set ashore. But a dense mist descends around the ship, threatening to swallow the craft and its men without a trace.
The desperate crew's chilling fate is recounted in this compulsive page-turner by William Hope Hodgson, a master of seafaring yarns. Rich in nautical language and lore, it combines an intriguing view of shipboard life with a suspenseful ghost story. Horror author Robert Weinberg noted the occult classic's compact prose style, hailing it as "one of the finest examples of the tightly written novel ever published." And no less an authority than H. P. Lovecraft observed, "With its command of maritime knowledge, and its clever selection of hints and incidents suggestive of latent horrors in nature, this book at times reaches enviable peaks of power."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Release date: Nov 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9780486817811

William Hope Hodgson

William Hope Hodgson (1877-1918) was a British author and poet best known for his works of macabre fiction. Early experience as a sailor gave resonance to his novels of the supernatural at sea, The Ghost Pirates and The Boats of the Glen-Carrig, but The House on the Borderland and The Night Land are often singled out for their powerful depiction of eerie, otherworldly horror. The author was a man of many parts, a public speaker, photographer and early advocate of bodybuilding. He was killed in action during the Battle of the Lys in the First World War.

Book preview

1

The Figure Out of the Sea

He began without any circumlocution.

‘I joined the Mortzestus in ’Frisco. I heard before I signed on, that there were some funny yarns floating round about her; but I was pretty nearly on the beach, and too jolly anxious to get away, to worry about trifles. Besides, by all accounts, she was right enough so far as grub and treatment went. When I asked fellows to give it a name, they generally could not. All they could tell me, was that she was unlucky, and made thundering long passages, and had no more than a fair share of dirty weather. Also, that she had twice had the sticks blown out of her, and her cargo shifted. Besides all these, a heap of other things that might happen to any packet, and would not be comfortable to run into. Still, they were the ordinary things, and I was willing enough to risk them, to get home. All the same, if I had been given the chance, I should have shipped in some other vessel as a matter of preference.

‘When I took my bag down, I found that they had signed on the rest of the crowd. You see, the home lot cleared out when they got into ’Frisco, that is, all except one young fellow, a cockney, who had stuck by the ship in port. He told me afterwards, when I got to know him, that he intended to draw a pay-day out of her, whether any one else did, or not.

‘The first night I was in her, I found that it was common talk among the other fellows, that there was something queer about the ship. They spoke of her as if it were an accepted fact that she was haunted; yet they all treated the matter as a joke; all, that is, except the young cockney – Williams – who, instead of laughing at their jests on the subject, seemed to take the whole matter seriously.

‘This made me rather curious. I began to wonder whether there was, after all, some truth underlying the vague stories I had heard; and I took the first opportunity to ask him whether he had any reasons for believing that there was anything in the yarns about the ship.

‘At first he was inclined to be a bit offish; but, presently, he came round, and told me that he did not know of any particular incident which could be called unusual in the sense in which I meant. Yet that, at the same time, there were lots of little things which, if you put them together, made you think a bit. For instance, she always made such long passages and had so much dirty weather – nothing but that and calms and head winds. Then, other things happened; sails that he knew, himself, had been properly stowed, were always blowing adrift at night. And then he said a thing that surprised me.

‘ There’s too many bloomin’ shadders about this ’ere packet; they gets onter yer nerves like nothin’ as ever I seen before in me nat’ral.

‘He blurted it all out in a heap, and I turned round and looked at him.

‘ Too many shadows! I said. What on earth do you mean? But he refused to explain himself or tell me anything further – just shook his head, stupidly, when I questioned him. He seemed to have taken a sudden, sulky fit. I felt certain that he was acting dense, purposely. I believe the truth of the matter is that he was, in a way, ashamed of having let himself go like he had, in speaking out his thoughts about shadders. That type of man may think things at times; but he doesn’t often put them into words. Anyhow, I saw it was no use asking any further questions; so I let the matter drop there. Yet, for several days afterwards, I caught myself wondering, at times, what the fellow had meant by shadders.

‘We left ’Frisco next day, with a fine, fair wind, that seemed a bit like putting the stopper on the yarns I had heard about the ship’s ill luck. And yet—’

He hesitated a moment, and then went on again.

‘For the first couple of weeks out, nothing unusual happened, and the wind still held fair. I began to feel that I had been rather lucky, after all, in the packet into which I had been shunted. Most of the other fellows gave her a good name, and there was a pretty general opinion growing among the crowd, that it was all a silly yarn about her being haunted. And then, just when I was settling down to things, something happened that opened my eyes no end.

‘It was in the eight to twelve watch, and I was sitting on the steps, on the starboard side, leading up to the fo’cas’le head. The night was fine and there was a splendid moon. Away aft, I heard the timekeeper strike four bells, and the look-out, an old fellow named Jaskett, answered him. As he let go the bell lanyard, he caught sight of me, where I sat quietly, smoking. He leant over the rail, and looked down at me.

‘ That you, Jessop? he asked.

‘ I believe it is, I replied.

‘ "We’d ’ave our gran’mothers an’ all the rest of our petticoated relash’ns comin’ to sea, if ’twere always like this,’ he remarked, reflectively – indicating, with a sweep of his pipe and hand, the calmness of the sea and sky.

‘I saw no reason for denying that, and he continued:

‘ If this ole packet is ’aunted, as some on ’em seems to think, well all as I can say is, let me ’ave the luck to tumble across another of the same sort. Good grub, an’ duff fer Sundays, an’ a decent crowd of ’em aft, an’ everythin’ comfertable like, so as yer can feel yer knows where yer are. As fer ’er bein’ ’aunted, that’s all ’ellish nonsense. I’ve corned ’cross lots of ’em before as was said to be ’aunted, an’ so some on ’em was; but ’twasn’t with ghostesses. One packet I was in, they was that bad yer couldn’t sleep a wink in yer watch below, until yer’d ’ad every stitch out yer bunk an’ ’ad a reg’lar ’unt. Sometimes— At that moment, the relief, one of the ordinary seamen, went up the other ladder on to the fo’cas’le head, and the old chap turned to ask him Why the ’ell he’d not relieved him a bit smarter. The ordinary made some reply; but what it was, I did not catch; for, abruptly, away aft, my rather sleepy gaze had lighted on something altogether extraordinary and outrageous. It was nothing less than the form of a man stepping inboard over the starboard rail, a little abaft the main rigging. I stood up, and caught at the handrail, and stared.

‘Behind me, someone spoke. It was the look-out, who had come down off the fo’cas’le head, on his way aft to report the name of his relief to the second mate.

‘ What is it, mate? he asked, curiously, seeing my intent attitude.

‘The thing, whatever it was, had disappeared into the shadows on the lee side of the deck.

‘ Nothing! I replied, shordy; for I was too bewildered then, at what my eyes had just shown me, to say any more. I wanted to think.

‘The old shellback glanced at me; but only muttered something, and went on his way aft.

‘For a minute, perhaps, I stood there, watching; but could see nothing. Then I walked slowly aft, as far as the after end of the deck house. From there, I could see most of the main deck; but nothing showed, except, of course, the moving shadows of the ropes and spars and sails, as they swung to and fro in the moonlight.

‘The old chap who had just come off the look-out, had returned forrard again, and I was alone on that part of the deck. And then, all at once, as I stood peering into the shadows to leeward, I remembered what Williams had said about there being too many shadders. I had been puzzled to understand his real meaning, then. I had no difficulty now. There were too many shadows. Yet, shadows or no shadows, I realised that for my own peace of mind, I must settle, once and for all, whether the thing I had seemed to see stepping aboard out of the ocean, had been a reality, or simply a phantom, as you might say, of my imagination. My reason said it was nothing more than imagination, a rapid dream – I must have dozed; but something deeper than reason told me that this was not so. I put it to the test, and went straight in amongst the shadows—There was nothing.

‘I grew bolder. My common sense told me I must have fancied it all. I walked over to the mainmast, and looked behind the pinrail that partly surrounded it, and down into the shadow of the pumps; but here again was nothing. Then I went in under the break of the poop. It was darker under there than out on deck. I looked up both sides of the deck, and saw that they were bare of anything such as I looked for. The assurance was comforting. I glanced at the poop ladders, and remembered that nothing could have gone up there, without the Second Mate or the Time-keeper seeing it. Then I leant my back up against the bulkshead, and thought the whole matter over, rapidly, sucking at my pipe, and keeping my glance about the deck. I concluded my think, and said No! out loud. Then something occurred to me, and I said Unless— and went over to the starboard bulwarks, and looked over and down into the sea; but there was nothing but sea; and so I turned and made my way forrard. My common sense had triumphed, and I was convinced that my imagination had been playing tricks with me.

‘I reached the door on the portside, leading into the fo’cas’le, and was about to enter, when something made me look behind. As I did so, I had a shaker. Away aft, a dim, shadowy form stood in the wake of a swaying belt of moonlight, that swept the deck a bit abaft the main-mast.

‘It was the same figure that I had just been attributing to my fancy. I will admit that I felt more than startled; I was quite a bit frightened. I was convinced now that it was no mere imaginary thing. It was a human figure. And yet, with the flicker of the moonlight and the shadows chasing over it, I was unable to say more than that. Then, as I stood there, irresolute and funky, I got the thought that someone was acting the goat; though for what reason or purpose, I never stopped to consider. I was glad of any suggestion that my common sense assured me was not impossible; and, for the moment, I felt quite relieved. That side to the question had not presented itself to me before. I began to pluck up courage. I accused myself of getting fanciful; otherwise I should have tumbled to it earlier. And then, funnily enough, in spite of all my reasoning, I was still afraid of going aft to discover who that was, standing on the lee side of the maindeck. Yet I felt that if I shirked it, I was only fit to be dumped overboard; and so I went, though not with any great speed, as you can imagine.

‘I had gone half the distance, and still the figure remained there, motionless and silent – the moonlight and the shadows playing over it with each roll of the ship. I think I tried to be surprised. If it were one of the fellows playing the fool, he must have heard me coming, and why didn’t he scoot while he had the chance? And where could he have hidden himself, before? All these things, I asked myself, in a rush, with a queer mixture of doubt and belief; and, you know, in the meantime, I was drawing nearer. I had passed the house, and was not twelve paces distant; when, abruptly, the silent figure made three quick strides to the port rail, and climbed over it into the sea.

‘I rushed to the side, and stared over; but nothing met my gaze, except the shadow of the ship, sweeping over the moonlit sea.

‘How long I stared down blankly into the water, it would be impossible to say; certainly for a good minute. I felt blank – just horribly blank. It was such a beastly confirmation of the unnaturalness of the thing I had concluded to be only a sort of brain fancy. I seemed, for that little time, deprived, you know, of the power of coherent thought. I suppose I was dazed – mentally stunned, in a way.

‘As I have said, a minute or so must have gone, while I had been staring into the dark of the water under the ship’s side. Then, I came suddenly to my ordinary self. The Second Mate was singing out: Lee fore brace.

‘I went to the braces, like a chap in a dream.

2

What Tammy the ’Prentice Saw

‘The next morning, in my watch below, I had a look at the places where that strange thing had come aboard, and left the ship; but I found nothing unusual, and no clue to help me to understand the mystery of the strange man.

‘For several days after that, all went quietly; though I prowled about the decks at night, trying to discover anything fresh that might tend to throw some light on the matter. I was careful to say nothing to any one about the thing I had seen. In any case, I felt sure I should only have been laughed at.

‘Several nights passed away in this manner, and I was no nearer to an understanding of the affair. And then, in the middle watch, something happened.

‘It was my wheel. Tammy, one of the first voyage ’prentices, was keeping time – walking up and down the lee side of the poop. The Second Mate was forrard, leaning over the break of the poop, smoking. The weather still continued fine, and the moon, though declining, was sufficiently powerful to make

Reviews for The Ghost Pirates

[creeps_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I always did like a horror tale wherein the main character is a completely normal guy dealing with abnormal circumstances.This was a good, spooky read. Told completely from the point of of the sole survivor, no explanation is given for the strange events that befall the cursed sailing vessel. It's a quick read with reasonably good pacing. I'd agree with other reviewers here in that this is the archetypal ghost story.I was happy to have downloaded this for free on my Kindle, because - being from the point of view of a common 19th century sailor - I needed a bit of help to get through the nautical lingo.

[michael5rimmer · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I first read this book in the 80s and had fond memories of it. Having just re-read it (Dec 09), I was pleasantly surprised that it was every bit as good as I remembered it.

Having been published in 1905, this is not a graphic horror story, rather it is an atmospheric supernatural tale that builds tension through hints and suggestions; half-seen, half-imagined horrors. That the author, Hodgson, was in the British Navy for several years adds to the realism of his depiction of life aboard a sailing ship of the early 20th century, although his use of some technical naval terms does get you running for the dictionary.

On the whole, a very enjoyable read. Ghosts and pirates: it does what it says on the tin!

[shanaqui_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Another horror/fantasy blend. There's not much by way of explanation in this one: the first line of the first chapter kind of sums it up: "He began without any circumlocution." Hodgson builds up the setting quite well, the slow beginning of the supernatural events and the spreading fear and paranoia. There's a lot of concrete detail about life on board a ship that serves to make it very much like realism, and then all hell breaks loose. The hows and whys of it aren't explained, only the events. Creepy and urgent at times, and a bit quicker paced than The Boats of the Glen Carrig and The House on the Borderland.

There are more named characters, in this one, though they're not very distinct from one another -- I might remember a few of them, Williams and Tammy for example, but mostly they were just Generic Sailors. There's also dialogue, unlike in the other two books I've read by Hodgson, which does seem to get things going a bit more urgently.

Atmospheric, and well-described in places -- not exactly fast-paced compared to modern novels, though.

[caanderson-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great ghost story. Hodgson puts you on the ship. Great story and characters.

[angelajmaher · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A vintage ghost story set at sea. There were a lot of nautical terms that went over my head, but not so many as to make me feel lost in the narrative. Perfect for when you want an older ghost story but feel like a change a scene from the more usual haunted house.

[arkrayder · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A classic for a reason. I believe this story has stood the test of time and will continue to do so. H.G. Wells was ahead of his time. I really need to read his other works.